You Weep Alone
by Sarah Montrose
Summary: When Logan first put on the crown of Albion, he was surprised by its weight. A fable III fanfiction (rated T for violence) Review always welcome and appreciate of course :) (English version of my fic : Le seigneur du château)
1. The Oath

**CHAPTER 1**

**The oath**

He could feel his heart against the royal golden-laced cuirass, banging hard. He could not wait any longer. Expectation and growing tension were unbearable. And yet, the only element Jasper seemed to worry about was his young master's look, his usual torment. As if the extraordinary quality of the day had not reached him.

The young man had to conceal his longing for flying into a temper as his butler restlessly turned around him like a busy bee. But the moment was beyond importance for such a childish fancy. His eyes glided toward the large curtain which framed the door of the balcony, on his right, in order to escape somehow his agony. His little brother, the Prince, stared at him with wonder, firmly clinging onto his nurse's hand. His small mouth was half-opened, as if in silent awe. The young man was too nervous to be moved by this vision of innocence, even though he felt his heart getting slightly warmer. But this sensation vanished right away. All of a sudden, a choir of trumpets ranged out on the other side of the door, in the castle court.

He swallowed hard and fixed his look straight ahead, on the door. Jasper wiped out one final dust from his epaulet and smoothed out his cape with the back of his hand, then stepped aside. The guards posted on either side of the door pulled the panels and came to attention.

Like rolls of thunder, the crowd rumbled, raised, and burst into applause; the earth trembled at the moment the morning light tore the darkness of the room. The young man's look stood still, holding to the bright line dawn beyond the city. The sun had not yet risen behind the roofs of Bowerstone.

His petrified legs came to life, and he stepped forward onto the balcony, beside Sir Walter's high stature. The solemnity of the moment had overcome his dread; he could feel his whole being filling up with a new, fiery energy. His eyes would not turn away from the glowing horizon, but the crowd was as palpable as if he had embraced it in a gaze. It was there. The quivering hearts of thousands of persons assembled before the castle, or leaned out of their window for the celebration, beating as a one. He thought he felt the blood of Albion pulsing right in front of him.

Then the ovation ceased, replaced by a heavy silence. _Unreal_, he thought. It echoed the expectation of a whole people aimed at him. At _him. _Sir Walter presented to him the book of Laws. The young man appended his left hand upon the old-leathered cover, and slowly raised his other hand as firmly as he could. It was shaking though. Sir Walter's voice rose at his side, but it seemed to come from a far-off universe. He could not even catch the beginning of the sentence.

"…child and heir of the King and Hero of Bowerstone, will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of Albion and his territories according to the laws of our Ancestors?"

"I solemnly promise to do so."

He was fairly surprised by the unexpected power and confidence within his voice. It resounded through the court with an authority he wouldn't have thought himself capable of in such a moment.

""Will you deliver your verdicts according to Law and Justice, and be merciful as long as it is in your power?"

"I will."

"Will you dedicate yourself to the people of Albion, always act in his interests, and preserve him from iniquity, war and other damages? Will you perform your duty with conscience, dignity and integrity?"

"I swear I will. The things which I have here before promised I will perform, and keep. So help me the gods. "

The voluminous book slid under his fingers, and he restored his arms against his thighs, taking a deep breath. The sparkling line of the horizon had thickened, and grown more and more shiny. The young man's eyes started to burn. The time had come. He lifted his chin in an impulse of aristocratic pride. Sir Walter's silhouette moved and the shadow of his solid arms slowly covered the top of his head.

"Logan, heir of the throne and of the bloodline of the Archonids, the almighty power of the Law and of the blood designates you as King of Albion."

The sun suddenly burst out from behind the roofs of the city and a blinding light bathed the balcony of the castle, inflaming the King's black apples. But he was prepared. His look did not diverge, though now fixed slightly above the celestial body, as the young man was told. The crowd shivered with thrill. At that moment, Sir Walter's arms descended on him, and he felt the iron circle digging into his black hair and clasping his head. When the old man removed his hands, the hoop lowered and penetrated his flesh. He nearly winced. Gods, how in the world could this golden gleam and these fine gemstones be so _heavy_!

The crowed blew up even more violently than the first time. Red and blue spots were now dancing before the eyes of the King as light became intolerable. He stepped forward, reached the railing and at last looked down at the people, greeting it with a cold and calculated gesture. The innumerable faces were but smiles and merry eyes. Some of the citizens carried children on their shoulders; others had climbed up the lamps in order to overhang the crowd, taking advantage of the do-nothing of the indulgence of the guards for the occasion. Flowers and sparkles erupted from the mass. A red rose beribboned jumped onto the balustrade where the King's hand laid.

His heart beat faster. For the first time since his apparition, his reaction was spontaneous as he took it and smiled. This enhanced the cries of joy. Finally, a unique cheer emerged from the ovations, clearly remarkable:

"Hurray! Long live King Logan! Hurray!"


	2. Family Portrait

**CHAPITRE 2**

**Family portrait**

Elise's curly flaxen hair looked so silky Edward craved to slide his finger through it. Elise chuckled pleasantly; her smile revealed white, perfectly lined-up teeth. She had such a beautiful laugh, so delicate, contrasting with her rather deep voice. That was a quality Edward greatly appreciated with girls. He came closer into the grass, and kissed a part of her neck the golden locks had left exposed. She hit him with the book she kept on her knees with a teasing smile.

"Stop it. You saved me from an ill-mannered bloke attempting to kiss me by telling him he had insulted a maiden's honour, but you just act the same way!"

"He was only an arrogant provincial nobleman. I am the prince." He replied, sliding his hand around her waist.

She pressed her forehead against his and sang with a childish joy :

"_You could be the king, it wouldn't change a thing_."

"Wouldn't it?"

As she was about to kiss him, she suddenly stopped. The bushes they were hiding in rustled and the gardener's head emerged from the other side. It turned red with embarrassment when he behold the young people.

"Oh, I humbly apology my Prince…I am…so…so terribly confused…"

He vanished as quickly as he had appeared. Elise and Edward laughed together at his awkwardness. However Elise's smile disappeared soon, along with her cheerfulness, and she seemed to plunge into darker thoughts. Edward cupped her face in his hands.

"Kiss me, Elise" he said.

She shook her head, ill-at-ease.

"I am sorry. I can't do this now."

"Is it because of the gardener? Don't pay attention to him!"

"Oh no, it is not his fault. It's just that I…" She took a deep breath then chuckled nervously. "I came to think about the King and…well, I just cannot kiss you with his face in my head!"

Edward frowned, slightly offended. Elise did not like Logan. That was new. Bearing in mind the fact she had been living at the Court with her parents for such a long time, thanks to Logan's toleration, as the old family of deposed aristocrats they were…that was a poor way to repay him.

"You don't like Logan ?" he let out. "And why is that? My brother is a highly respectable man. You see, I admire him a lot."

Elise speedily covered her mouth with the top of her fingers, as if she regretted what she had just said. But she did not go back.

"Edward" she hesitated. "Have you not left the castle latterly? Have you not heard the rumours?"

Edward shrugged. He had not went out much these last months, only to go to Millefield from time to time, or to the Bowerstone market to greet the burghers and wander about the shops; and he had not come across anything abnormal. The citizens complained about the taxes alright, -they found them too heavy. But then, this was every country's lot.

"I do not care about what people say" he stated dryly.

These words definitely freshened up the air. Elise said nothing, but her body seemed to curl up from the prince's embrace. Edward would have suffered less if she had condescended to answer anything. He tried to develop his thoughts, inwardly hurt.

"Elise, look…I know my brother well…"

"Of this are you so sure?" she interrupted, staring at him.

Was he sure of this? Logan had been his greatest support after their parents' death when he was only eight. In spite of all his teachings and his royal duties he was to assume very soon, Logan often encroached on his spare time to look after his little brother, to listen to him and to comfort him when the parental absence ached too much. Of course, with time, Logan gradually took on his power –and ended Sir Walter's regency, which had been entrusted to him by their father. At the age of eighteen, he definitely became the King. From then on, him and Logan found themselves asunder, and could hardly see each other. The castle was so big and the King's planning so restrictive they could sometimes not meet for days.

Edward scarcely accepted his brother's being taken away from him. This cost him a few years, and his poor butler (and even Sir Walter) some hard times. He would often roll on the floor, demanding his brother, or refuse to eat before seeing Logan. But he slowly learned to comfort himself on his own, or to make the best of Jasper's embraces, his brother's butler who would look after him during his spare time and lend him his shoulder when he felt like crying. His jealousy at the idea of his brother's being with other people, or the surges of hatred he came to experience toward him, when he was convinced that Logan neglected him on purpose, pacified when he entered his teenage years, that is to say, years of revolt. He thus decided he had no reason to chase after his brother's company when his brother did not do so. But Edward's last impulses of childish exclusivity ended, at last, when he met Elise.

Elise, the fair Elise, whose image had replaced his brother's in his heart, when she became the object of his desire. Nevertheless, she had never reached the throne his brother occupied in his mind, after years and years of unleashed childish fantasy, resulting of Logan's being unreachable. His brother, King, was engraved with golden letters deep inside of him, and in spite of teenage cynicism, he had never been able to break with this conception. His imagination had built a powerful and great brother, righteous and severe, merciful as long as it was in his power, as he had sworn the day he was crowned. Precisely, the coronation had been the starting point of the myth. Edward remembered it perfectly well, while the other events of this remote time remained blurred. He could see again his waiting in the dark room near to Logan, but above all things the moment when the doors of the balcony were opened, and when his blazing cuirass and his gold-embroidered epaulets had sent back the sunbeams. He had appeared in full glory, as handsome and magnificent as a young god. This vision never left his mind. When Logan came back from the balcony, he wore their father's crown.

Edward understood later that to be a king did not only imply a throne and the mightiest albionites' hand-kissing of allegiance. As a matter of fact, the more the prince matured, the more the royal duties seemed to him a huge amount of paperwork, never-ending meetings with old and tedious bureaucrats, good projects constantly given-up because of reality, and last but not least, unlimited worries and responsibilities to put up with. Lately, Edward had been able to see how much power weight upon Logan. Especially since his mysterious expedition four years before, from which he went back with a scar he had always refused to reveal the origin. From then on, he started to lose weight, his cheeks grew hollow and pale, dark rings started to mark his face. He became even busier and widened the distance between him and Edward, if it was still possible to do so. But despite everything, Edward never stopped admiring him.

He knew his brother was a good king, and he needed not to check out the condition of Albion to be sure of it. Their father had Logan acquainted with leadership since he was a young boy. Moreover, Logan always took seriously his duties, he worried about the people and the kingdom; it was enough to be his brother and to have suffered because of his royal devotion to understand that. Rumours! What could bloody rumours know about that?

"Yes" Edward answered finally. "My brother acts in the interest of the kingdom, I am sure."

Elise shook her head, blatantly saddened.

"I do not doubt of your sincerity, Edward. Logan is your brother after all…but have you not noticed how much he has changed? He acts strangely…and he always looks so tired…"

"He must be anxious."

"He _must_ be? That doesn't mean a thing!" Elise corrected with a blush. "I am sorry; I mean…he is your brother, is he not? How is it that you are so poorly informed?"

Edward took her hands between his, and she opposed no resistance. He kissed them softly.

"I try not to bother him" he explained coldly. "Jasper told me again this morning not to disturb my brother. I know how much his functions require his full attention and his full time. I learned to respect that and not to take too many liberties with him…Elise?"

He broke off when he saw his friend's eyes glittering. She turned her face away and tried to blink back her tears.

"I-I am sorry Edward, I behaved like an idiot. Not a single time have I imagined that you and the king…that two brothers could have such a relationship. I guessed Logan would be very busy, but I thought you two were close…"

"Be we _are_, Elise. I love him dearly, and so does he. The thing is, I cannot allow myself to interfere with his duties. I cannot bother him with my own little problems when he has the problems of an entire kingdom to deal with. Beside, you know…Logan is seven years older than me, and he is the king. We are not on the same footing."

But this statement only brought new tears into Elise's eyes. She hiccupped, and the fluid rolled down her cheeks like crystal pearls.

"I am sorry" she repeated. "I have got a sister I love very much…and when I try to imagine as many obstacles between us as there are between Logan and you, it hurts."

"Hush, hush, Elise" Edward urged her, taking her in his arms and kissing her face tenderly. "Don't be silly, you hurt yourself for nothing. You get used to it, you know, we grew up like this. We have not found ourselves in such a situation from one day to the other. On the other hand, not to see Logan as much as I would has some advantages: I am all the more pleased in his company. In addition, we never quarrelled seriously! I have only good memories with him."

Edward had a bit overemphasized this last point in order to cheer Elise up. Indeed, the reason why him and Logan never quarrelled, he was well aware of it, was due to their being not on the same footing, as he told her first. They thus could not really oppose on any point. Furthermore if he indeed had only good memories of the rare moments he spent with his brother, -that is to say, moments of tenderness-, it was because most of these memories referred to the time Logan did not yet -or not fully- assume the regency. The more recent memories were not particularly pleasant, nor were they unhappy, for they were mostly deprived of any emotional intensity. Since Edward's teenage years, Logan had been behaving with the authority of a surrogate father, who looked at him as a child. Edward could not remember a single moment of true brotherhood, of authentic complicity between them.

Elise stopped crying, and Edward swept her wet cheeks with a tender eye. To see her in such a state had broken his heart. She pressed herself against him in a desperate embrace.

"Edward" she whispered. "Just promise me to pay attention to the servants of the castle. They know they are lucky to work here while many people have been thrown out lately. If some things seem to disturb them, it is that they deserve your attention, do they not ?"

She recoiled to look at him straight in the eyes.

"Look…I do not ask you to judge your brother, just to observe carefully. You promise me?"

Edward sighed.

"I promise you."

"Thank you so much!"

She kissed him again in a surge of gratitude. The Prince would have liked this kiss to last, but the gardener interfered once again, timidly reappearing behind the roses. He cleared his throat and had the decency not to look at the young couple he clearly disturbed.

"I apology, my Prince, but one of His Majesty's guards is looking for you in the garden, I am afraid. I chose not to indicate where you stood…I thought maybe you wouldn't have approved….with Lady Elise…"

Edward let out a laugh, and Elise smiled.

"That was a fine decision" When the gardener walked away, the Prince turned to his friend with sparkles in his eyes. "Talking about the devil…It sounds like my brother is looking for me. Let's go!"

He jumped on his feet, but Elise stayed in the grass, staring at her hands which rested on her laps.

"Elise?"

"I can't come with you. You're the one Logan is looking for."

"That's nonsense. If his wish is to meet me personally he will let me know. You are coming with me anyway."

"No, Edward. Logan will certainly not like it…"

"Logan has not seen you for a very long time, and you are very important to me. I want him to know you better. I would like to be able to discuss with him about our…maybe upcoming engagement."

Elise lifted her head. Edward never mentioned engagement before. That was a conclusive evidence of his love. She felt her heart jumping blissfully inside her chest at the idea. He thought of their relationship as serious, him, the prince! He even yearned to arrange her a meeting with his brother. This was unreal. Elise put her hand in Edward's and got up, full of hope and joy. But when she found herself a moment later in front of one of king Logan's personal guards' purple uniform, her enthusiasm vanished.

The blond-haired guard did not look much older than her or Edward. His tree-cornered helmet rested on his crooked arm. When the young people approached him, he did not come to attention –Logan was the only one the elite soldiers were bound to pay respect- but he stiffened slightly.

"My prince, king Logan summons you. He is waiting for you in the study of the royal quarters.

"Good."

The guard did not specify that the King wanted to see him alone, even when he noticed Elise's hand in the Prince's.

"Edward, think!" Elise whispered, suddenly panicked as they reached the door of the royal quarters. He could not be serious. "I cannot enter the royal quarters! This is unimaginable, even the guards don't…"

"The members of the personal guard are allowed inside."

"But I am only…I am not a member of the family…"

Elise was now horrified by the idea, but Edward smiled kindly.

"You already entered my bedroom."

Elise blushed violently and stopped arguing, but the young woman knew she was right. First, the Prince's quarters were not the King's quarters. Secondly, Elise's regular visits to the Prince's bedroom, even though they did not perpetrate any reprehensible action in it, had always been kept secret not to feed the rumours of the Court, thanks to Jasper's sufferance. The old man was in fact quite flexible behind this conservative aspect of his.

Edward's hand tightened around hers when he knocked at the polished wooden door.

"Come in"

The Prince opened the door and entered, dragging Elise along. The first thing the young woman noticed was the heavy smell of rose which filled the room; besides, the place was not more pompous than the rest of the castle. The floor was covered with a large purple carpet, the colour of royalty, but the wooden panelling was left bare with elegance. Three high windows on the wall illuminated the room, even though they could not fully dispense the shine of the sunny afternoon, as the wall was oriented toward the east. On the right-hand wall was a big chimney with, on top of it, a portrait of the former King, the Hero of Bowerstone, along with two bookcases. On the left, two brown-leathered settees supported amounts of papers and books. Logan stood in front of the newcomers, his arms on both sides of the desk.

Whereas the nobles of the Court challenged their imagination with extraordinary wigs, ribbons and plumages and laced bands and sophisticated ties and high-heeled ankle boots and pompous breeches, the King could look somehow stern, for his garments reminded of a soldier's: he wore practical military trousers and horseman's boots, black velvet gauntlets and a double leather belt. His high rank was published by the royal cuirass he had been bearing since he inherited the throne, and which tended to evoke his commanding of the army. Logan only wore the crown from time to time, mostly when he was to attend some official celebrations he never showed any interest in. And still, he delivered most of his public speeches bareheaded.

That day, the King had not broken the habit. He looked up from the parchment he studied when the young people entered the room.

"Is that you, brother? Come closer." He said with a softened voice, full with latent authority.

He quickly glanced at Elise, but made no comment on her presence. But Edward was too stunned to notice, far more concerned about his brother. Logan could not be only twenty-six. The prince had not seen him that closely for days, but this short time had been enough to make him look years older. Edward stood still for a second. _Now_, he was truly worried. Could Logan be sick, and hiding it from him? The prince first shivered with fright. Impossible, he reassured himself. He had seen him training with Walter a few days before, with so much energy their mentor had had to beg for mercy, breathless. Logan's pallor did not obscure the sparkle of power and authority he enclosed; on the contrary, it seemed to increase it. But this feverish, nervous vigour which filled each part of his almost ascetic body was not healthy at all.

Edward stepped forward without releasing Elise's hand. Logan finally turned to the young woman and his black eyes granted her a sharp look. It was her turn to tighten her hand around the Prince's.

"Here is Elise" Edward explained, though his brother had not opened his mouth. "You remember her? Yes?"

Logan studied her more carefully, stroking his chin.

"If the young lady would be so kind as to raise her head, I may be able to answer."

The tone was firm but not the least aggressive; that could be the reason why Elise had to feel Edward's pressure on her hand to realize that she was actually staring at her feet. She raised her head, ashamed of her soppy behaviour, when she knew she was not a timorous girl anymore. She withstood the monarch's cold eyes until he turned back to his brother.

"I do remember her" he muttered. "The lady of the bellflowers, isn't she?"

Elise was startled. That was the very name Edward gave her when they first met, and to hear it into the tyrant's mouth was quite disturbing. The prince obviously told his brother everything about them. Next to her, Edward could hardly conceal his excitement. He was too glad to see that his brother had not forgotten.

"Yes, she is!" he almost cried out.

"She has changed since I last saw her." Logan conceded.

Yes, the young woman remembered the day when Edward first introduced her to his brother, four years ago. But Logan was the one to change. At the time, he was not this gloomy countenance, this shadow of a king. This _tyrant_.

"What do you think of her?" Edward insisted. "She is beautiful, isn't she?"

Elise had to struggle not to let out a cry of indignation. Logan silently raised his eyebrow. His face hardened.

"This is not the matter here" he retorted. "I have to tell you something important."

Edward yielded to his brother, all ears. Elise felt inwardly released. Logan just spared her the trouble of a very uncomfortable discussion, quite unexpectedly. The King went on.

"In two days we will welcome a commission of the Clockmaker's Order. Does this title mean anything to you?"

"It does" Edward answered, a bit puzzled. "Is it this new-born cult from Samarkand, which expanded to Albion a few years ago?"

The Order achieved a great success in the East, and then crossed the mountains, and in a few years, it had enlisted innumerable albionites. The Clockmaker's Order had become the number one religion in the country, in a time when the temples would empty out and the hours of mystical contemplation would be crushed by the unstoppable pestles of industrialization. The first temple of the Order opened in Bowerstone about a year ago, and the people's enthusiasm led the King to put in an appearance at the inaugural ceremony. For the same reason, the monarch had to maintain diplomatic relationships with the religious dignitaries.

"A public worship will take place on the main square – a worship you and I shall not attend – and will be followed by a reception right here in the castle" Logan carried on. "The prince must be present".

"May I invite someone?"

"Fair enough"

"May I invite Elise?"

Logan quickly sized her up.

"Anyone you like" he cut short. "Just tell the Chancellor"

Edward smiled gratefully and Elise curtsied with grace before turning to the door, but Logan held them back.

"Just before you go, Edward, let me remind you that the aim of such a reception is to keep our guests entertained, in order to avoid any unwanted conversation. I will thus ask you –and your friend- not to stick together all evening-long. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal-clear" Edward answered, dragging Elise in his wake.

The King watched them walk away sceptically.


End file.
